


Relunctant Angel

by melagan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 09:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13831593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melagan/pseuds/melagan
Summary: Angel Rodney has been sent to Earth to protect John. He's never had a human body before. It takes some time getting used to.





	Relunctant Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Beta credit: [mischief5](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mischief5/pseuds/mischief5)
> 
> Written for Romancing McShep

Rodney McKay was bored. How had his angelic life become editing entries in the Letter of Souls? He peered down at the Earth and a prickle of Recognition ruffled his wings. Frowning, he added another name to his book. _John Sheppard_. Interesting. This soul seemed particularly—dare he say, hellbent—on sacrificing itself for others.

As a rule, humanity didn't hold much interest for him; he didn't have some secret desire to become human. As far as heaven went, well....

In frank honesty, Rodney never felt his particular talents were fully appreciated. He could be conducting heavenly symphonies or putting his efforts towards guiding the motion of planets. Part of him always secretly hoped he'd be chosen to guide the creation of new, baby stars. But no, after eons of faithful service, the ingrates above assigned him a charge. Not even a lesser heavenly host, but a mere mortal. To add insult to injury, his new task required him to be a guardian, like some newbie trying to earn his wings.

He'd come into being with his wings already formed, thank you very much. Large, pure white, and quite magnificent, really, if he were honest. Which of course he was, it was heaven after all, and now he'd have to give them up and go to Earth.

Humans were so messy and unpredictable, that even with his genius, Rodney had no idea where to begin. Despite that, he could admit to being curious. His observations thus far had shown his new charge, Major John Sheppard, to be an even more complex mess of contradictions than most. It was intriguing. 

That didn't mean he was going down without a protest. 

"Are you certain my real assignment didn't get lost in the clouds somewhere? It wouldn't surprise me if Peter lost it on purpose. Oh, he talks like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, but I know better. That self-styled gatekeeper has had it out for me ever since I proved he was wrong about—or did you conveniently lose it?"

"No, Rodney," the Seraphim said. His wings looked tight with strain. "You felt the Recognition. Did you think you were going to brush it off just by writing down his name?

If the stress of the situation was getting under the Seraphim's wings that was hardly his fault. As far as Rodney was concerned, if Phimy couldn't handle a little criticism with his message delivery then they might as well go off and play the harp somewhere. Rather than answer, Rodney folded his arms across his chest and glared. 

"It's not a mistake, Rodney. We've tried assigning the newbies—I mean the angelic cadets—to this case. Of the last three, two of them ending up weeping into the cloud cover and wouldn't leave. The last one asked to go back to purgatory. He claimed it was less stressful than trying to keep Major John Sheppard safe."

"But, you know," Rodney said, "I've never understood humanity. All of those hormones and brain chemicals leading them around by the nose. Granted, there's the occasional burst of inspiration, even some hint of grace at times, but I'm not convinced it makes up for all of the emotional mess they tend to wallow in."

"That's why Above thinks you're perfect for the job. You've never been human and he thinks this will work to your advantage. Less messy, as it were." Still pale, Phimy offered a wan smile. "If it helps, Above has faith in your success."

"I don't have any say in this, do I?" Rodney asked.

"No, you really don't."

"Wait! Before you send me to Earth, tell me one thing. What makes John Sheppard so special?"

~*~

John slid the round into the chamber in one smooth, quiet motion. Another crash came from the backyard followed by a yelp. Definitely not the cat. At two a.m. he'd been woken from a sound sleep, rolled out of bed, and reached for his nine-mil automatically. By the time he'd padded barefoot into his kitchen, he was wide awake.

More extremely un-catlike noises came from outside. Whoever was out there had noisily progressed to John's postage stamp sized patio. One hand on the doorknob, he yanked the door open and aimed his weapon just inches from the interloper's face. "Who the hell are you?"

Wide blue eyes stared back. 

"Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing in my backyard?" John growled. The guy was an odd duck, that was for sure. He even felt a little bad for coming off so aggressive because even after a quick look it was clear the stranger was harmless. The way he cuddled a tiny, mewling kitten to his chest and the complete lack of clothing being the first clues.

"I found her digging at that old pizza box on the top of your trash can." He held up the gray-striped kitten as if John hadn't already noticed her. "She's hungry and I strongly doubt old, dry pizza crust is the best thing for her. Do you have any milk?" 

John lowered his gun. "I might. Depending on how you answer my question."

The stranger's expression brightened. "I'm Rodney. Rodney McKay, if you need a last name. And you're John Sheppard, Air Force major and recently back from Afghanistan."

"How do you…?" John took a step back, thinking it was time to make a phone call and get this guy hauled off for trespassing when Rodney pushed past him and walked straight into the kitchen. 

"You can look me up. Not that you'll find anything. Still, if it makes you feel better, feel free." Rodney opened the fridge and pulled out the milk. "Saucer?"

"In the cupboard to your left." John's eyes traveled over Rodney's body. Winters tended to be mild in this part of California, but there'd been an unseasonable cold snap during the night. "So, are clothes an optional choice for you or did you just forget where you left them?"

"Oh, I wasn't allowed. Something to do with the continuum transfer only allowing live...is it a problem?"

"Um, you look cold." 

Rodney put the kitten down by the milk and held his arms out. "My arms looks weird." 

They were red from the cold. Not just his arms, his all over. John forced his gaze back up to Rodney's face. "Goosebumps. It happens when you get cold. You act like you've never seen them before."

"Not really, no. And my feet, they feel strange." Rodney hopped from foot to foot, scowling.

"That's the circulation coming back. How long were you out there without…ah, shoes?" John winced. 

The all-over nakedness wasn't something he wanted to address. Once he did, he was going to have to make a choice. Social services or the police, and the longer Rodney stood there with his big eyes and trusting face, the more John wanted to protect him. Damn it.

"You could just help me," Rodney said as if reading his mind. "A blanket, some hot soup...." He looked at John hopefully. "You have those things, don't you?"

With a head full of unspoken _aw, fucks_ , John gave in. "Blanket's on the couch in the living room. Go ahead, I'll see what I've got for clothes that might fit. Not sure about the soup, but I can rustle up some toast and eggs. Leave the cat, she'll be fine." 

John watched as Rodney stepped into the living room, wrapped the faded quilt around himself, and settled on the couch with his feet tucked under him. Calling himself all kinds of idiot for being a such a soft touch, he limped over to his bedroom. Jumping out of bed hadn't done his leg any good but at least he hadn't popped any stitches. His injury wasn't that serious. He'd probably be back flying rescue missions by now if he hadn't cracked his head in the same accident that drove a three-inch piece of metal into his calf. 

Medical was making him wait for a month before they'd let him fly. He couldn't even go back on light duty for another week. The whole double-vision thing hadn't even lasted all that long…okay, John could see where the doc had a point. 

He checked the safety on his nine-mil and tucked it in the nightstand drawer next to the bed and locked the drawer. He wouldn't be needing it. Moving to the dresser, he pulled out an old pair of sweats and red flannel shirt. 

The first had been worn within an inch of their life but were as comfortable as hell. The second was as new as the day he'd opened it as a gift. Both would be warm and should fit. Rodney was an inch shorter but his shoulders were as wide as John's. Sandy-haired as opposed to his darker mop, Rodney's eyes were…blue. They were god-damn blue and he was spending way too much time thinking about them.

John quickly snatched a pair of socks from his dresser and resolved to keep Rodney at arm's length. The guy had been running around naked in the dead of night in December. He didn't need that kind of trouble. He didn't kid himself; Rodney was trouble. Somehow, this complete stranger knew his name, where he lived, his rank, and that he'd just returned from Afghanistan. That last part was the most troubling.

Most of John's missions were strictly need-to-know, involving reconnaissance and rescue behind enemy lines. Rodney sure as hell hadn't found out about him in the local paper. So how…? He paused, considering his next move. If he kept Rodney here, put up a smoke screen of offering to help the guy by letting him stay…. It could work. He had a week left of medical leave to pump his unplanned guest for info. 

His plans for a dramatic entry into the living room as a noble rescuer fell apart when he tried to avoid tripping over the kitten and landed on his ass. 

"John! Are you all right?" Rodney snatched up the kitten and cuddled it to his chest. 

"M'fine."

"You have a head injury; you need to be more careful. And do I need to mention that you could have done Cat serious injury? If some people would only watch where they put their big feet, this never would have happened."

"Had. Had a head injury. And how do you even know about that anyway?" John got up, trying not to favor his injured leg, but now it was hurting like a son of a bitch. Worse, Rodney was gently patting the kitten between its ears and making disgusting cooing noises. 

John hobbled over to the end of the couch and put his leg up on the coffee table. "And 'Cat' was the best thing you could come up with? That's it, I'm revoking your naming privileges. Ow. Fuck."

"Oh, no, you really are hurt. Stay right there I'll get…what do I need to get?"

John leaned back and threw one arm over his eyes. "Just put on some pants, McKay. Please." 

Rodney didn't leave it at that. Oh, he put the clothes on John gave him but, apparently, he'd also rummaged through the bathroom medicine chest and brought an armful of stuff into the living room. He spread it out beside John. 

John looked down at Band-Aids, assorted painkillers—some of which he'd never opened—Q-tips, and an old bottle of Merthiolate. "Wow, I had no idea I had so much crap in there."

"Will any of this help?" Rodney asked. 

"Nope. What would help is going back to bed and getting some sleep." 

"Oh. Yes. That's probably a good idea." 

McKay looked as close to wringing his hands as anyone John had ever seen. He sighed, remembering his plan to make McKay feel welcome until he could find out what he knew and how he'd gotten information about John's life. Damn, he'd promised to feed him too. He forced himself up off the couch. "It's not soup but there's instant hot chocolate in the kitchen. It's got mini-marshmallows," John said, waggling his eyebrows. "C'mon, I'll make us some and then I suggest we both get a couple hours sleep. Morning will get here soon enough."

Rodney followed him to the kitchen, staying close to his heels. If John didn't know better, he'd think the guy was trying to make sure he could catch him if he fell again.

~*~

He'd failed his first test. He'd barely arrived on Earth and gotten a foot in the door and Sheppard had gotten hurt. Why, oh, why did Above think he'd be any good at this? He'd never been a nurturer, and while it seemed like a task anyone could learn, he was clearly abysmal at it.

If he couldn't keep Sheppard from reinjuring himself in the man's own home, how was he going to keep him safe when he was out of Rodney's sight on some death-defying mission? He stared mournfully into his empty cup. His first taste of hot chocolate with marshmallows had been surprisingly delicious. Which was not the point at all, but if he were going to stew in misery, he might as well have another cup of hot chocolate while he did it. 

He tiptoed into the kitchen. No sense in waking Sheppard. His charge needed his sleep; besides, he'd watched carefully as Sheppard used the microwave. Rodney opened the package of cocoa mix and dumped into his cup, adding enough water to fill it. Five minutes should be long enough. 

Three minutes after that he realized that five minutes was a gross overestimation. Panicked, he grabbed a roll of paper towels, shoved the entire roll into the microwave, and shut the door firmly behind it. Maybe John wouldn't notice. 

A small amount of hot chocolate remained in his cup and although it was still too hot to drink Rodney took it with him back to the living room. He supposed he should consider it a success that Sheppard hadn't been around to get a steam burn. With a sigh, he finished his drink and decided he should at least try to sleep. At least this body seemed ready for it. He yawned. 

Rodney tossed and turned trying to find a position his body could settle into comfortably, but it wasn't just the lumpy couch keeping him awake. His charge gave form to the words _a disaster waiting to happen_ , and he was just beginning to realize how badly things could go. Heaven had never prepared him for this.

He pulled the quilt up under his chin, finding meager comfort in its warm softness. As he blinked into the darkness, Cat clawed her way up onto the couch and demanded attention. Her white paws impatiently kneaded at Rodney's chest until he reached down and petted her between the ears. Purring, she settled down, and for a moment, he felt like he'd done at least one thing right when he rescued her from the trash can.

Long after Cat fell asleep, he lay in the dark, his own brain and heart refusing to rest. He'd have to get better at this and quickly. Two thoughts circled like hellhounds at his heels. One: he knew what would happen to John Sheppard if he failed. Two: he had no idea what would happen to him.

~*~

"Rise and shine, McKay." John slid four slices of bacon onto the second plate next to the heap of scrambled eggs. McKay had better like his eggs that way because it was the only way he knew how to cook them. He usually cooked them in the microwave but one look inside it and he'd shut the oven door and decided to finish his coffee before cleaning it. Might even have a second cup.

It hadn't taken long to get McKay's number. The guy liked sure his food. The noises he'd made just drinking a cup of cocoa last night had been near pornographic. Hence, bacon. And once he had McKay sated with manly portions of salt, grease, and caffeine, John was going to get some answers.

Rodney came shuffling in, dark lines of exhaustion circled his eyes. His hair stood up in tuffs and pillow lines creased his face. Despite all that, he perked up when he saw the food. "That smells delicious."

"Sit. Eat." John poured them both coffee before sitting down to join him. "Didn't sleep well?"

"Not really. You should invest in a new couch. I suggest one that's not related to a Medieval torture device." The last few words were muffled since Rodney seemed to be trying to both complain about his back and moan over his food at the same time.

John watched as Rodney chewed on his bacon, licked his lips and fingers and then reached for another piece. Unable to tear his eyes away, he almost forgot that he'd had a purpose to this. "Uh…questions. That's right, I have a few questions."

"Where's Cat?" Rodney asked, interrupting his thought. 

"Call of nature. She went to the door and scratched at it until I let her out. She's pretty smart for her age."

"Should we get cat food?" Rodney asked, fork poised in the air.

"Later. We'll go out later today. You need a few things too." John leaned back in his chair and sighed. "We’re not letting her go hungry but don't get too attached. Her owners might want her back."

Rodney abruptly stood, his face clouded with fury. "They abandoned her! She's just a baby—she could have frozen to death!"

"Relax, McKay, I'm not going to let anything bad happen to either one of you." John blew out a slow breath, surprised when he realized how deeply he meant every word. "Now, sit down. I just remembered what I wanted to ask you."

The conversation devolved from there. There'd been one welcome distraction amid the nonsense words. Cat had cried at the door and Rodney got up to let her in. From there she promptly made herself comfortable curled up by Rodney's ankle while he fed her bits of egg from his plate.

That was the only remotely sane thing he could recall out of the last fifteen minutes. "You're an angel." Nope, saying it out loud didn't make it seem any less ridiculous. 

"Not just an angel. Your guardian angel, John. I'm here to protect you." Rodney smiled at him, guileless and happy as if he weren't some kind of nut job.

"Okay, you know what, we're not talking about this. After I shave, we're going to the store and get enough stuff to…." To what? To keep Rodney and Cat happy while they were under his protection? That sounded about right. Certainly, neither of them seemed capable of dealing with the harsh realities of the real world right now. John gentled his voice, hoping he didn't come off sounding like he was humoring the crazy person, just because he was. "We'll just take care of each other for a while. Sound good?"

Breakfast done, John offered Rodney the first shower. The poor guy was still looking a little ragged around the edges from his midnight wanderings. "Go ahead, McKay, I'll find you something clean to put on."

Rodney left to clean up and John poured himself another cup of coffee and tackled the mess in the microwave. Keeping his hands busy kept him from dwelling too much on the fact he'd wasted an hour and still didn't have the answers he needed. Was McKay playing him? If so, why hadn't he come up with a better cover than the angel story? 

John balled up the dirty paper towels, and with a toss, sunk them into the wastebasket. Ten points! Now he only had to figure out if McKay was a security risk. He didn't think that problem was going to be solved quite so easily.

~*~

As John drove into the parking lot, Rodney began gesturing to the quietest place on the lot. John asked, "You want me to park here? Why?"

"There are no other cars around," Rodney explained. "I don't want to take the chance of someone ramming into your car. Heaven knows you’re a prime candidate for whiplash."

"Un-huh. Sure. Big risk of that parking where there aren't any cars."

"My point exactly!" Rodney said, a big, smug grin on his face.

John parked where Rodney wanted not just to humor him but because he wanted something in return. "So, tell me. How did you know I'd just come back from a mission in Afghanistan?" 

"I know because you almost died there," Rodney said, sounding more pissed off than John thought that warranted. "I know every time you almost died."

"Because you're my guardian angel." John rolled his eyes. He pointed Rodney towards the store entrance and gave him a little shove forward. "You know I'm just going to keep asking until I get a straight answer."

They were just a few steps from the door when Rodney stopped, frozen in his tracks. "Sunscreen! I can't believe I forgot it."

He grabbed John's arm and looked at him with an expression of horror. "Did you remember to put it on? No, of course not. You're exposing yourself to unnecessary radiation exposure and I never thought to remind you." 

Rodney buried his face in his hands. "Above never should have entrusted me with your care. I'm bad at this. You probably won't believe me now, why should you? But I'm good at most things. Really good, as in genius good…."

"Easy, McKay. John awkwardly patted him on the back, uncomfortable at the public display they were making of themselves. "I'm not going to fry between here and the store. Promise."

"Well, if you promise, that makes everything okay," Rodney snapped. 

"Jeeze, you’re grumpy for an angel."

"So I've been told. Oh, look!"

It took John a few seconds to realize exactly what had caught McKay's attention because at first glance it seemed to be the entire snack aisle. As he watched, Rodney grabbed up a bag of marshmallows and hugged it to his chest. 

"Look at the size of these! They're enormous!" Rodney gazed at him with wide-eyed wonder.

"They're just..." Suddenly John got it. Rodney's most recent experience with marshmallows had been with the tiny ones that came in the hot cocoa packets. "Toss them in the cart, buddy, and we'll get them." He took Rodney by the elbow and steered him toward the soup aisle, shaking his head. 

Rodney seemed genuinely surprised at the size of regular marshmallows, which didn't convince John he was an angel but it did say something sad about McKay's childhood. On a whim, he tossed chocolate bars and graham crackers into the cart. Just on principle, no one should go through life without trying s'mores at least once. 

The rest of the shopping trip went uneventfully. Granted, by the time they left the store, John had more sunscreen than he needed, and Rodney had gone on a kick about 'roughage' when they'd hit the vegetable aisle. What the hell did anyone do with rutabaga anyway? 

By the time they got back, John's leg ached. Not enough to complain about but he wouldn't argue with getting off it for a while. The last thing he needed was for McKay to notice and make a fuss. That hope was shot to hell when Rodney pushed him towards the bedroom. 

"Go lie down, John. I'll take care of this stuff. Soon as I'm done, I'll join you."

"What?" John's brain couldn't have heard him right. Figuring he must be more tired that he thought he went to the room, took his shoes off and stretched out on the bed. Rodney wanted to join him? What the hell did that even mean? Did he want to have sex? Okay, not a completely unwelcome thought. Except for the part where it might mean consorting with the enemy. Or a crazy person. John had always been good at puzzling out people's motivations, but Rodney had him stymied. 

A slow, creeping horrible thought blossomed in his mind just before he drifted off. John had told him just this morning, he'd take care of him. What if Rodney thought he owed John sex as a payment for staying here? He couldn't possibly think that—could he?

~*~

John woke up, shaking off a bad dream. He'd been wandering, abandoned in the desert, the air too hot to breathe. He found himself clinging to the edge of the bed, a inch from tumbling to the floor. "What the fuck?"

No wonder he was hot; Rodney was curled up against his back, sound asleep and comfortably taking up the middle of the bed. It was tempted to just shove Rodney off the bed, but a quick glance at the clock showed he'd overshot his intended ten-minute nap by two hours. Crap.

John stood up and stared down at Rodney. This snoring, sleep-drooling, bed-hogger sure didn't look like an angel. At the moment, he didn't even sound crazy. Although that would probably change the minute he woke up and opened his mouth. 

He'd given up the plan to call social services or the police. What he should do was contact his CO. Somehow, the details of John's latest mission, and who knew how many others, had gotten out. But the idea of just handing Rodney over stuck in his craw. Besides, he had no idea how high up the leak went and he'd feel a lot better about it reporting it after he grilled McKay himself. 

"You haven't told anyone about me yet because part of you knows I'm telling you the truth." Rodney sat up and stretched. "This is a thousand times better than sleeping on the couch."

"Shit! How long have you been awake? And how do you know this stuff? I know I didn't say any of that out loud."

"Guardian Angel," Rodney sing-songed. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked up at John through his ridiculously long eyelashes. "This would be so much easier if you just accepted that."

"Okay, smartass." John crossed his arms over his chest. "Show me some angel stuff." 

"Ah, well that's not as easy as it should be." 

"I thought so," John smirked, feeling like he'd proved his point and wanting Rodney to know it.

Rodney swung his legs over the bed and stood. "Oh goodness, my back doesn't hurt. I'm definitely sleeping here from now on." He pushed past John and headed for the kitchen. "Why don't you make some of that coffee you do so well? I'm sure it will improve your disposition. Oh, and John? Don't waste my time with airs of indignant righteousness. I eat that stuff for breakfast."

~*~

Rodney inhaled the scent of coffee, enjoying its heady aroma. His first sip was, yes, he could say it, heavenly. "This stuff is fantastic."

"Thanks." John sat down at the table with his own cup of coffee. He made a show of looking at his watch. "I'm waiting."

"Right. Angel stuff. I'm not going to wave my hand and create miracles. For one thing, I'm here stuck in a human body and I have to obey its limitations. Yes, yes, I know, it's grossly unfair. However, I'm not entirely without resources. "

John leaned back in his chair and drawled, "Resources. Care to elaborate?"

"Discernment—I know when someone lies—meaning I know their true intentions. Knowledge—on a—" He waved his hand through the air. "—universal scale. Granted that hasn't been as much help in adapting to my human condition as I thought it would be. Influence—I can arrange certain circumstances if there's sufficient need."

"I'm beginning to believe that you believe all this." Abruptly, John stood. "I need you to tell me how you know so much about me, right the fuck now. No more of this angel bullshit."

"That knowledge was given to me."

"Yeah, I get that," John said, his eyes hard. "I need to know who told you. How deep does this go?"

"Just me, and just what I needed to know to help you." Rodney's heart sank. He wasn't any closer to convincing John than he'd been before he started trying to explain. "Please trust me when I say that I was given that information from the highest authority, one that outranks anyone in your chain of command."

"I don't believe you."

Rodney raised his eyebrows just as John's cell phone rang. He waited as John listened to the voice on the other end of the line. 

The conversation involved a few, Yes, sirs and little else. When John hung up he stared at Rodney like he'd seen a ghost. "That was Lieutenant Colonel Coburn, my CO. He said I should shut up and listen to you. And that while he didn't know who Rodney McKay was personally, the order came from above." The tenor of John's voice changed into something soft and bemused. "It seems I've been ordered to trust you."

He sat down carefully as if his world had turned to glass. "Did…did you just do that?"

"See?" Rodney gleefully rubbed his palms together. "Now, we're making progress!"

John hadn't reacted quite like he'd expected. Instead of being delighted that Rodney had just proven that he'd come to Earth to protect him he kept blinking back at him, his throat working as if there were words stuck that he couldn't get out. 

Exasperated, Rodney finally asked, "What?" 

"All that stuff you know about me, did you read my mind?"

"Oh! That explains why you look so pale; you're worried I'm going to pry into some deep dark, personal secret." Rodney dismissed those concerns with a wave of his hand. "I only know what I need to know. I'm not reading and can't read your mind. Knowledge is—for lack of a better word—dropped into my mind. Rest assured, I'm not scavenging about in yours. And what I know is that you haven't got a malicious bone in your body. If anything, you bear too much burden for things that are not your fault."

John stood and started pacing, pausing every three steps or so to stare at Rodney before moving again. He finally stopped, and asked, "Why the attention? I mean, why do I get my very own personal guardian angel?"

"I'll admit it is unorthodox. Not the guardian part, that's common, but we don't send one of us to Earth as a human unless it's..." He paused. He didn't think John would take it all that well if he told him that this was only the third time in millennia this sort of thing had happened. And it was only happening now because of just how rare an individual John Sheppard was. No, mentioning words like destiny or vital to the future weren't going to be received well judging by the look on John's face. 

Rodney took a moment to mentally pat himself on the back. He was getting better at this. He'd actually recognized the expression on John's face as distress before he said something to make it worse.

Jaw tight, John's eyes narrowed. "Now what?"

"What, what? You do everything just like you normally would."

"Roughage, Rodney? Seriously?" John's jaw softened. "You said this was rare. Is it as weird for you as it is for me?"

"You have no idea. This whole human body thing—I'm afraid I'm not very good at it yet. Although, I'm finding out how actual flavors taste has certainly been interesting."

John smiled. "In that case, I think it might be time to introduce you to beer, hot dogs, and apple pie."

Rodney pressed his hand to his chest trying to control the fluttering feeling inside that had inexplicitly started when John's eyes lit up with that smile. "John? I think I might be sick."

~*~

Yep, this was a great idea. John stretched, letting the tension of the last forty-eight hours bleed away. His gaze kept sliding over to Rodney. Hell, might as well admit it, after that phone call, he could barely keep his eyes off him. He'd be lying if he said the whole thing made any sense, which was why he'd suggested they take a few hours and just relax. His backyard wasn't much to look at, just some dry grass and scrub brush.

John hadn't moved here for the scenery. He'd picked it because the rent was cheap, it was near the base, and best of all, there was almost no light pollution. He could lean back and look up at the stars with a clear view. He was never gonna make the astronaut program and knew it, especially at his age. But this kind of view took the sting out of it. 

The two of them stretched out on a pair of lounge chairs that had seen better days. The aluminum had a few dents and scratches, and the god-awful burnt orange color had faded to sickly peach, but they were sturdy and did the job. Probably a reflection of his life, but John wasn't going there; he was having too much fun watching Rodney. 

The night was mild and he'd suggested the two of them sit outside and look at the stars. His guardian angel (and wasn't that a hoot) had nearly bounced on his toes in delight. 

Come to find out, Rodney liked beer. A lot. Keeping a straight face, John reached into the cooler and passed him another bottle. He waved his own, now empty bottle, at the stars. "So, Angel, can you point out heaven from here?"

"Don't be ridi…alocous. Re…luscious…be silly. You can't see it from here. It's everywhere." Rodney frowned. "That doesn't make any sense. You can't write an equ—equizsion—equation for it either." 

John had an insane desire to reach out and wipe the cute pout from Rodney's face. Instead, he settled all the way back in his chair and turned his face up to the night sky. "It hurts my brain too. But, it sure is pretty."

When it seemed safe enough to look at Rodney again, he looked up to see Rodney staring at him. "What? Do I have egg on my face?"

"Not egg." Rodney gestured to his own face. "Hair. It looks different than mine."

"The ol' five o'clock?" He scratched at his dark bristles under his chin. "Be grateful, it's a bitch to keep up with. But you're getting there. A little scruffy, but nothing like mine. I wondered if you were planning on shaving or if you trying for the manly, grizzled look."

"I haven't been able to convince myself that running a razor-sharp object against my face is a good idea."

"Seriously? That's why you haven't shaved since you've been here? Come on, we're going to fix that." 

John jumped up and grabbed Rodney's hand. He pulled him to his feet, plucking the beer bottle from his hand. 

"That way." John steered him through the door. He set a chair by the kitchen sink and urged Rodney to sit down.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving you a shave." He passed the beer back. "Drink up. It will help you relax." John grinned evilly. "I'm about to run a sharp razor blade all over that pretty face."

While Rodney finished his beer, John warmed a wet towel and gathered up the rest of his shaving gear.  
"First we're going to soften up those whiskers."

After his first initial protest, Rodney began to relax under the heavy, warm weigh of the towel. When John decided it was enough, he gently removed it and began lathering the shave cream. There was a ritual to shaving, a quiet rhythm of starting the day fresh and clean. After enough missions where that wasn't an option, he'd begun to appreciate it. 

"Are you doing it, yet?" Rodney asked with his eyes squeezed shut.

John put a fresh blade into the heavy double blade razor. "Just relax and don't talk." He turned Rodney's head to the angle he needed. With the first stroke, Rodney sighed and completely relaxed under John's hands. The time passed quietly, without a word between them. 

He took longer with the shave than he needed to, but Rodney didn't need to know that. There was something so damn sensual and satisfying about holding the angel's trust literally in his hands that it warmed John in a way he was loath to let go. Finally done, John urged him to his feet. "Go check it out in the bathroom mirror."

"The floor's moving."

"You're a lightweight, you know that, right? I'd be embarrassed if just a couple of beers put me under the table like that." John pulled Rodney up. "Lean on me."

Rodney did more than lean—he clung to John like a limpet. 

"Whoa there, buddy—" At first, he wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. Rodney had a very definite erection and John wasn't sure how to react. 

Rodney tilted his head back and looked up at him through those ridiculously long eyelashes. "Thank you, John. I feel all tingling—ly now. Is it always that way when you shave?"

"Not really, no." He cleared his throat. "Ah, I know you haven't been on Earth very long, but I think we need to set you up with a date."

~*~

As date plans went, John intended to blame the beer. Well, that and deciding to invite everyone to his place the next day. It's possible he should have thought it through and not just reacted to Rodney's unexpected erection.

Some burgers, some beer, and a few people of both sexes so that Rodney could figure out what he liked. What could go wrong? John snorted. Yeah, as it turned out, a lot.  
He moved away from the grill smoke and watched Rodney waving his hands at his date. Okay, date was a generous word. He'd just wanted to introduce Rodney to other people including the opposite sex. What could be easier than arranging a cookout with some of his Air Force buddies? 

He'd failed to consider that the women he suggested they bring were already someone's date. Theirs. So, Rodney didn't have a date, just a chance to mingle. From here, it seemed semi-successful. The redhead he was talking to hadn't slapped his face or stomped off yet. John didn't have a date either, but this wasn't about him. 

Oh-oh, it looked like the redhead just happened to be Mitch's girlfriend. Judging from the glares, his buddy Mitch was in the middle of working up a good head of steam, jealousy clearly rearing its ugly head. John wondered if he should warn Rodney just in case Mitch's temper got the better of him. To his surprise, Mitch wasn't stalking Rodney; he was marching towards John. 

"What's the problem, Mitch?" John gave him his appeasing-the-natives smile; nice and friendly. 

"You're a bastard, Sheppard." 

"I hardly think that's called for." John spread out his hands in a peace offering. "Whatever's wrong, let's talk it over. We can figure it out."

Mitch loomed. That was the only word John could think of to describe it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rodney headed this way. Damn it.

"Sure, it was great you invited us over for a barbeque. Real nice of you to tell us to bring our gals. It would've been even nicer if you'd warned us about the guy hound-dogging them. He's been telling my girl how he's a genius and smarter than me, and that monkeys can be trained to fly. Had my girl giggling and asking to hear more about it." Mitch leaned forward. "I don't like it."

"I don't think he meant anything by it." Of course, he did; Rodney defaulted to snark, especially when he felt defensive and uneasy. But John could see how not everyone was as amused by Rodney as he was. 

Mitch hauled back his arm to throw a punch and John ducked. 

"Ow! You broke me!"

John snapped his head up. "Rodney? What did you do?"

Rodney had both hands covering his nose. "Protecting you from this heathen." 

It sounded more like _Profecshin you foom this heavan_ which might have something to do with Rodney's smashed nose, and his efforts talk through his hands. 

"Mitch, take your girlfriend and go. Now. The party's over. He turned his attention to Rodney's face.

"Let me see." John gently moved Rodney's hands away from his nose.

"It hurts."

"Yeah, buddy, a busted nose will do that. C'mon, let's get some ice on it." 

A few minutes later, Rodney, looking pathetic and miserable, sat at the kitchen table with an ice pack plastered to his face. 

"It's not broken, just bloodied. Mitch must have pulled his punch."

"You mean it could have been worse?" Rodney squeaked.

"Yep. What possessed you to step in the way?"

"It's my job to protect you," Rodney said, clearly indignant that John had even asked. "I just didn't know it would hurt so much."

"You'll be fine." John shoved his hands into his pockets so that he wouldn't reach out and hug Rodney.  
That couldn't lead anywhere good. He only had a few days before he had to report for duty. Whatever his next mission, it wasn't as if he could have his own personal angel hanging around the base to keep him company. 

Leaving Rodney to finish blotting his nose with a purring kitten sitting on his lap, John went outside to clean up. Everyone had left, which suited him just fine. Picking up the last of the trash made the backyard look better but it didn't do a thing for his cluttered thoughts. When he left at the end of his leave, what would McKay do?

The next day his orders came in. A fresh-faced airman arrived at his door with a large manila envelope. His orders, airline tickets, and a new ID badge spilled out onto the table. McMurdo? He hadn't seen that one coming. As long as he was good to fly, John didn't care where they stationed him. And on the upside, he didn't have to worry about enemy gunfire from the penguins. 

He looked up to see Rodney staring at him. "Did you know about this?" he asked.

"Yes, the knowledge drop came last night. It's good though, right?" Rodney asked. "You'll be much safer there than running missions in some war-torn country."

John nodded as he shuffled the papers back into the envelope. "You won't have to watch out for me anymore." He looked up just in time to catch a flicker of regret in Rodney's eye. 

"Yes. Good." Rodney gently touched the end of his nose. "I'll be saved from further risk of bodily harm." 

"Hey, we've still got a couple of days. We could go on an overnight motorcycle trip, or we could get a couple wetsuits and go surfing. I know, we can go hang gliding, unless rock climbing is more your speed?"

Rodney's face grew paler with every suggestion. Finally, hitting a point of outrage John didn't know he had in him, Rodney backed him up against the wall. "No. No, do you hear me?" 

He curled his fists in John's shirt. "Of all the outrageous, stupid, death-defying shenanigans, just no!"

"Shenanigans, McKay? Seriously?" Rodney's face was a hair's breadth away. It took no effort at all to lean in and brush his mouth against Rodney's ear. "I was just kidding," John said huskily. "I'm not about to risk you getting hurt either."

"Oh," Rodney said softly, whatever anger he'd had now long gone.

Rodney's breath was warm against his ear, and an anticipatory shudder ran up John's back. "I've never kissed an angel before. Is it—is it okay? I won't go to hell or anything?"

"Afraid to find out? That doesn't sound like you." 

"You're right. It sure as hell doesn't." He stroked his thumb first over Rodney's bottom lip and then trailed his fingertips across his angel's cheek. The skin there was as soft as he'd remembered when he'd given Rodney that shave. 

Rodney tilted his head up, trust shining his eyes. 

He cradled Rodney's face in his hands and swore to himself that he'd keep this first kiss chaste and tender. He needed to know for certain that Rodney was ready for this. He'd just leaned in for a kiss when they were interrupted by a huge crash coming from the living room. "Crap. Sorry. I have to check this out." 

Cat sat next to the broken pieces of ceramic lamp calmly washing her face. 

"Get Cat so she doesn't cut herself, and I'll clean up," John said. The mood between them was broken, and maybe it was for the best. Tomorrow, he had to pack and then report to medical. They'd be going their separate ways all too soon and there was little point in making it harder. 

By mutual agreement, they spend the evening under the stars. After all, John couldn't leave before introducing Rodney to s'mores. He built a small campfire in the backyard, rolled out the sleeping bags, and brought out all of the fixings for marshmallow, chocolate, and graham cracker goodness. 

"You've got marshmallow on your nose, McKay. How did you manage that?" 

Rodney huffed. "I'm working on achieving the perfect all-over toasty brown. Watch and learn, Sheppard." 

Two seconds later, Rodney's perfect marshmallow caught fire and landed in the grass. He held up his empty stick and frowned. "This is surprisingly harder than I expected."

John snickered and Rodney's answering grin made his insides feel as melty as the marshmallow. But before he could say something stupid, Cat decided to climb his leg, sinking every one of her claws into him in the process. 

Morning came too early. Before he knew it, John was standing on his doorstep, his duffle bag at his feet, and passing Rodney the house keys. "Stay as long as you need." He rubbed the back of his neck. "This sucks. I don't have an address yet, and I don't even know how to reach you once you're—gone." He glanced up at the cloudless, blue sky, throat unaccountably tight. "Do I, you know, pray?"

"If I can, I'll leave an address, but I'm not sure what happens next either." Rodney leaned close and John thought he was going to kiss him, but instead, he stuck out his hand to shake. "Good luck, John. Remember, a little less recklessness is a good thing."

Unable to deal with the impending goodbye, with a sharp nod, John turned and walked to his car, his throat felt thick with all of the things he couldn't say. As he drove away, his last look in the rearview mirror was of Rodney looking lost and cradling Cat in his arms.

~*~

Rodney walked into the kitchen and put the kitten down by her food. He stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, and tried to figure out his next move. A sudden change in the air made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, and he slowly turned around.

Cat stretched and began to transform in front of his eyes. Glowing with a white light, she grew larger, first turning to into white, blurry, very large crouching feline, before growing larger still until she turned into a sexless human form couching on all fours. Finally, the figure stood, but before its features could sharpen into a recognizable face, it morphed once more. In place of Cat stood a winged form, and one Rodney recognized. 

"Seraphim. What are you up to?" Rodney tilted his chin and glared at the angel. "It was you all this time? You were spying on me?"

"Above knew your fears. I was sent to watch over you and help if I could. Pray for assistance if I could not." The Seraphim's eyes brightened. "Your cleverness in arranging with General Hammond's guardian angel to have Sheppard transferred to Antarctica was notably brilliant."

"Yes, it was, wasn't it?" Rodney beamed. "I'll admit I wasn't expecting his communication to come through an attractive redhead in John's own backyard." He gingerly touched the end of his nose. "Not with the best of consequences I might add."

"Short notice, I'm afraid. One uses the vehicles they can." The Seraphim shrugged, clearly done with the topic. "As I was saying, you've saved John Sheppard a great deal of distress and injury by arranging his transfer to McMurdo earlier than the expected timeline. I do have concerns. Will the burden of letting your charge continue his path without you cause you distress?"

"What caused me distress is that I've never got to tell John how important his role is in saving a galaxy. Fix that if you can."

"Ah yes, I did notice you didn't tell him that part." 

"And have him freak out? Excuse me if I wanted to avoid that," Rodney snapped. "He needs this, and the expedition needs him." 

"Isn't sending him the Pegasus galaxy going to make things worse?" Phimy asked. "They do have a bit of a Wraith problem, after all."

"You'd think so." Rodney sighed. "I suspected Above wasn't all that happy about the way I've handled some things and I was afraid they'd assign another angel to John." He snorted. "As if they'd be able to handle John's tendency to sacrifice himself. That's a disaster waiting to happen. I couldn't risk it.

"But," Rodney continued, desperate to get his point made, "there's a collective of ascended Ancients that still keep an eye on the natives in the Pegasus galaxy. Well, one at least that I know of. Chaya Sar will watch over him where I can't."

"You're sure about that?" Phimy asked.

"Please, John's attractive and charming enough to catch her eye. She won't be able to resist taking him under her wing. And as much as I hate to admit it, her ascended powers are stronger than mine in my present state."

"I'm not so convinced." The Seraphim's wings furled inward, expressing their concern. "Wasn't there some scandal surrounding her ascension?" 

Rodney dismissed his own concern with a sharp handwave. "Some trivial business about watching over her people. If anything, that should make her more than qualified for the task. If she can guard a planet full of people, one's one more human?" 

"Perhaps. Nevertheless, you've done well." Phimy laid a hand on Rodney's shoulder. "It's time to go home."

~*~

John hated dealing with the ascended Ancients. They had a one-track mind when it came to ascension and a nasty habit of leaving things in a mess for someone else to clean up. He could just imagine what Rodney would have to say about that.

God, he missed McKay. Rodney might have been annoying, egotistical, and always butting into John's business, but he was also funny, kind, and surprisingly generous where it mattered.

He shoved down the regret that he'd never managed to contact Rodney after he left. Then again, ending up in the city of Atlantis, all the way out in another galaxy, hadn't exactly been in his plans. Their first few weeks here, none of them were even certain they'd survive.

Then a few days ago all that seemed about to change. They'd found a peaceful planet protected from the Wraith by a power none of them had understood at the time. In the end, it hadn't mattered.

Chaya's planet had seemed like the perfect solution; a sanctuary for everyone who wasn't actively out there fighting the Wraith. That hope had gone up in flames. Ascended Ancient Chaya Sar had flat out refused to help. 

Oh, sure, she'd been momentarily taken with him. Hell, she probably would've even made an exception for him. But just him. John's entire being rebelled at the idea of being safe while leaving his people in danger. Fuck that. 

"Major Sheppard," Radek Zelenka's voice came in over the radio. "We have found something in one of the labs. Please come."

"Where are you?" 

"Go to the nearest transporter. I will program in the destination from here."

John stopped by the ready room and grabbed a tac vest. He made sure his nine-mil was loaded and headed for the transporter. Radek was as good as his word. When John stepped inside, a glowing dot was highlighted on the map. Radek hadn't indicated if what he'd found was good, bad, or dangerous, but John did know he'd find out in the space of a few heartbeats. He took a deep breath and pressed the dot.

"This way, Major Sheppard," one of the scientists waved at him from a lab down the corridor. Dr. Beals, if he remembered right. 

John jogged up and entered a brightly lit lab. To his right sat a large console and to his left—to his left Radek stood in front of a stasis pod. He'd seen one of these before, an empty one on the Antarctic base. Rumor had it that General O'Neill had once spent some time in it. 

Radek moved to the side, giving John an unhindered look at its occupant. 

"Get Carson down here, right away," John ordered, still staring at Rodney. God, _Rodney_. "Tell him we've got to get McKay out of an Ancient stasis pod."

"Major Sheppard?" Radek sounded startled. "You know this person?"

John nodded, suddenly bereft of words.

"How? How can you know him?" Radek shook his head. "It should not be possible."

"Let's get him out of there," John finally managed to say. "Then we can ask."

Impatiently, he waited for Dr. Beckett to arrive. 

"Major, it will do no good to continue to pace other than to wear a hole in the floor," Radek pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. "It is distracting. Please stop now."

"I know. It's just—how long before Carson gets here?" John laid both of his hands on the front of the case, willing with all his heart for Rodney to open his eyes.

"He is assembling his team and equipment and will be here as soon as possible. Remember, they must find a medical transporter large enough to fit a gurney."

Radek frowned at something on his laptop's display. After a few disheartening pecks at his keyboard, he lifted his head and blinked up at John. "We may have a bigger problem here than your mystery date."  
The lights in the room began to flicker just as Carson arrived. John knew he should feel torn between releasing Rodney and the current power crisis with Atlantis. But it was no contest; Rodney came first. 

"Can you get him out of there, doc?"

"He seems well enough preserved." Carson must have felt John's glare because after a pause he added, "I mean to say there's nothing seemingly abnormal about his state of suspension. He hasn't aged beyond normal, and according to these readings, his life signs are exactly as I'd expect under the circumstances."

The power flickered again, leaving half of the room dark. "But I think it's best we get him out of there before we lose power to the pod."

"Good idea, doc." John folded his arms across his chest and waited, all while trying to pretend his heart wasn't thumping out of his chest. 

The stasis pod door swung open. He knew he shouldn't but he pushed Carson out of the way and stood in front of Rodney. It took everything he had not to shake him awake. "Wake up, you blasted angel. I know you're a stubborn cuss, but I really need you to open those baby blues." 

Rodney's eyes shot open and he drew a long breath. "John!" 

"Rodney!" A smile of relief cracked across John's face. "How the devil did you end up here?"

"Oh, it wasn't the devil." Rodney reached out, fisted his hands into John's shirt, and leaned up into him. "I'm here because I had a few things I wanted to keep working on."

"Yeah? And what would that be?" John gently teased. He didn’t know how he'd done it, but Rodney was here and for the first time in months he could breathe.

"This." Tilting his head, Rodney kissed him on the mouth. More than a kiss, it was a promise that left John's head dizzy with possibilities. He wrapped Rodney in his arms, holding on just as hard as Rodney held onto him. 

Carson Beckett noisily cleared his throat. "If you don't mind, Major, I'd like a look at my patient now." He held out a blanket to wrap around Rodney's naked body. "I imagine your friend is feeling a mite cold."

Reluctantly, John took a step back, even though it was the hardest thing he'd done since walking through the Stargate. "Take good care of him, doc."

Rodney chatted away as Carson took checked his vitals. "Who knew that Chaya is an idiot? Possibly that cocky Seraphim, but I hate giving him the credit for it. Oh! He actually did make a case for my arrival here. Why Above had to do it this way…well, I suppose there are reasons. The bottom line is, John, I came to my senses and realized you're safer with me with my human limitations than you ever were with that ascended dolt."

John grinned. He could get the details later. Rodney McKay was here on Atlantis. Rodney, who'd kissed him and fought to get here just to be with him. 

Before John's mind could get too boggled with those facts, the lights went out. "Zelenka! What's going on?" The floor rocked under his feet. 

"That big problem I mentioned? It's gotten bigger." Radek tapped frantically at his keyboard, finally giving up and throwing his hands in the air. "We must all leave, immediately. Nothing on this level is stable."

Rodney jumped down from the gurney. "It's an unstable power flux. If you don't fix it, it's going to corrupt every conduit in the city."

"Can you fix it, Rodney?" John asked. 

"Of course I can. It's just a matter of—" He pulled the front panel of the main console. "I'm guessing turning on the stasis pod created a short and because Atlantis detected a life sign the city protocol rerouted some things it shouldn't have into places never meant to contain…." He began pulling crystals, some he discarded, tossing them to the side, and others he put in a pile next to him.

Quickly, Rodney began inserting the crystals back into the console in a configuration John had never seen before. Radek watched, wide-eyed, and looked like he wished he could take notes.

Rodney waved John over. "Put your hand on the console and think 'on'. 

"C'mon, baby, work," John said, following Rodney's direction. The lights came back on. No flickering, just a steady glow. "That's it? Crisis over?"

Rodney smugly grinned back. 

"You will show me what you did, yes?" Radek said. He bobbed his head at John. "I like your new friend, Major Sheppard, and I think Dr. Weir is going to be very pleased." He turned back to Rodney. "With your help, I think we will bring much of the city back to life."

"Easy there, he's still my patient," Carson reminded them. "Since there's no more crisis, it's to the infirmary for you, Mr. McKay. The Major can show you around after I've cleared you." 

John knew better than to argue. Carson agreed to let Rodney walk on his own power as long as long as he agreed to let him know if he grew dizzy. "I'll make sure he gets there safe, Carson. Promise."

Carson raised an eyebrow and John found himself at a loss to explain that he'd never let anything happen to Rodney. Taking it out of his hands, Rodney pointed back and forth between them. "Safety, it's a thing between us."

"I've not a bloody idea what you're talking about, so let's get you checked out and get a good meal into you."

Rodney stopped in his tracks so abruptly that John bumped into him. "I don't suppose you have any marshmallows?"

~*~


End file.
